


Strung Out (on John Wayne)

by Tenebrosa



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrosa/pseuds/Tenebrosa
Summary: It takes a bit--and by bit he means a divorce and a strange sort of agreement to continue living together to uphold whatever...lie they're presenting to the community--but Robert finally gets to make good on his promise. And make good he does.





	Strung Out (on John Wayne)

**Author's Note:**

> Could be read as a standalone or a sequel to An Odd Arrangement

“You’re such a fucking slut for this.”

Joseph doesn’t manage more than a whine, though shame curls in his stomach at the hissed words. His knees spread wider on the bed, slipping and catching in the sheets, fingers buried in his own hair as he pulls restlessly.

“S-stop--”

“Stop what?” Robert does something filthy with his tongue that makes Joseph shudder, something that makes an obscene slurping sound in the quiet of the room. “Stop this? I dunno, seems like you’re pretty into it.”

He’s not wrong.

_Fuck him_ , but he’s not wrong.

Joseph’s cock is hard, held up from the friction of the sheets by Robert’s almost cruel grip on his thighs. He’s so close he’s _dripping_ , staining the bed below and embarrassingly needy. 

“Don’t call me--” Joseph swallows, his throat clicking dry with the attempt. “Don’t c-call me that.”

“Awww, don’t like to face reality?” Robert sinks two fingers inside him, stretching him out for the next broad stroke of his tongue. 

Joseph claps a hand over his mouth to keep his whines down, achingly aware of the fact that just because they’re alone doesn’t mean no one will overhear. Robert had insisted on keeping the bedroom window open--he’d claimed it was good for a crossbreeze, but Joseph think he just wanted to mortify him further.

“You know I’m only kidding.” This...this is the worst of it all. When Robert becomes gentle, when he’s _soft_ instead of brutally demanding. “You’re such a good boy for me. Sweet little whore exactly when I want you to be. You know how happy that makes me?”

“Oh my...stars.” The words trip off his tongue, almost making him break his own rules, and Joseph whimpers when Robert moves behind him.

Another finger is slipped in, easy from how long they’ve been at this and just the right amount of burn, as Robert bites at his nape. Joseph’s arms shake, exhausted from holding his weight up, unable to take the added pressure of Robert leaning on him. He collapses with a groan, face smashing into his pillows, arms wrapping around to hold tight like it’ll center him.

“Awww, adorable.” Robert coos, twisting his fingers inside, before there’s the disgusting sound of him spitting and a wet warmth sliding over his hole. “You’re just making it worse on yourself, sweetheart. Now you’re not even gonna be able to hold your pillow at night without thinking about my cock.”

“J-just--just fuck me already.”

“Oooh,” Robert hisses out a breath, yanking his hand away so quick it steals the air from Joseph’s lungs.

He’s gripped, not so much flipped as _thrown_ onto his back, hitting the mattress with a guttural sound punched out from his chest. Robert’s looming over him in an instant, keeping his thighs spread wide with his hips, the material of his jeans almost too harsh against the sensitive skin of Joseph’s balls.

“Kitty’s got claws all of a sudden?” Robert grins, dark and wild and not even remotely in the area of fucking around--though he keeps his tone falsely light. “What happened to all the begging and pleading, honey? You sound so _good_ when you’re begging for it.”

“Robert, _please_ \--” He’s cut off by a harsh kiss, tongue thrusting deep without warning, and Joseph scrambles at his shoulders, cheeks burning bright red.

“That’s--you didn’t wash your mouth out!” 

Robert laughs against his lips, licking a stripe over his closed mouth with a teasing slowness.

“A good little church boy like you? You’re probably so goddamn clean I could go kissing my ma with this mouth.”

There’s something about it, something about the way Robert’s hips roll in a wave, something about the filth of the activity that makes Joseph open his mouth with a moan. Robert hums something, something he can’t make out but it almost sounds proud in tone, licking inside once more.

“Now--are you gonna ask nicely? All this time, I’ve been _so_ patient.” Robert leans back, hands falling to his jeans--thank god he forewent his belt, Joseph isn’t sure he could take another obstacle between him and getting fucked at this current moment. “Been your dirty little secret for so long--I think I deserve a reward. But it’s not nearly as _satisfying_ if you don’t beg for it.”

Joseph closes his eyes, slams them shut to compose himself even as he hears the shuffle and rustle of Robert pushing his clothes aside. It’s not fair that he’s naked and Robert’s still mostly clothed but...the thing between them was never fair. Never about _being_ fair. Just about a need that was too primal to be held back and a want that neither of them ever bothered to hide.

“P-Please.” It feels sticky on his tongue, like communion wine gone bad. “Robert...I need it.”

“Wanna be more specific there, darling?”

He’s so desperate, so absolutely wrecked by this man and his words and his hands and _everything_ about him that he simply...doesn’t think. He doesn’t give it consideration, doesn’t mull over the consequences. Just acts.

Joseph reaches down, keeping his eyes closed so he won’t have to see Robert’s expression, and spreads himself wide. He hitches his legs up further, heels against Robert’s shoulders, and knows he’s made a spectacle of himself by the low groan-turned-curse that escapes the man.

“Please, I need--need you to fuck me. I want you to stretch me open, fill me up. Robert--please.”

There’s another curse, this time something that makes the minister in him yelp, before Robert edges in closer, knees under his lower back. The thick smack of a cock against his hole makes Joseph whimper, eyes flying open in shock to witness the snarl of Robert’s teeth.

“Lube?”

He shakes his head.

“Don’t--don’t need it. Don’t _want_ it. I wanna feel you for _hours_ after this. Wanna limp tomorrow because you--because you fucked me so well.”

“Naughty fucking slut.” Robert grits out, jaw working before he spits another thick glob between them. 

Oh god, Joseph can feel the press of a cock against his hole. Robert must’ve--must’ve pushed the spit inside with his cock. 

“Breathe,” Robert hisses and--oh, that would explain why he feels light headed. “Breathe and keep yourself spread like a slut for me. This is gonna sting like a bitch.”

He’s not wrong. It does sting. It stings and it burns and Joseph feels like his nerves are fraying along with his control as Robert sinks inside. It’s not a short process, every inch crammed inside him with the jolt of Robert’s hips.

Like this is another fight. 

Joseph’s ankle is seized in a tight grip, almost bruising, and Robert tugs his leg off and down to the side. Spreading him further for the gaze that dips low.

“God, look at you.” There’s _wonder_ in Robert’s voice, gravel praise that makes a shiver climb up his spine. “So fucking gorgeous. Taking every goddamn inch like you were _made_ for my dick.”

“Robert,” Joseph whines, half-chiding, half-desperate as his grip starts to slip in the sweat gathering. “I need to--I wanna touch--”

“Touch me or touch yourself?” Robert leans in and bottoms out with a neat shove, lapping after the gasp that escapes Joseph’s throat. 

“Any--either--I just want--”

“Shhh,” Robert says, free hand petting the sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead like he’s a child. “Shush, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you need, don’t you worry. For now, how about you grab onto my shoulders, huh? Hang on for the ride.”

It’s stupid and it’s _soft_ and absolutely not what Joseph wanted when he invited Robert in tonight. His words are liquid gold, nothing like the bite of whiskey he can smell on Robert’s skin, and Joseph isn’t sure if he hates it or hates himself for loving it.

He obeys, because what else could he do? Raises his hands until he can fist the fabric stretched taut over Robert’s shoulders.

Moments, mere heartbeats later, he’s glad he did. Robert gives him no time to catch his breath, no time to even _think_ for the rough rut fuck pace he starts. Joseph can feel the tears leaking down his cheeks from overstimulation, pre-come pooling on his stomach, the head of his cock smacking wetly into it with every rough pound of Robert’s hips. 

He’s drooling. God in heaven above, he’s literally _drooling_ as Robert fucks him like he’s never been fucked in the entirety of his life. 

“You should see how you look right now.” Robert’s panting, both of them far too old for the pace they’ve set. “Such a fucking--sonofabitch, you’re fucking tight--look like such a little slut for it. Mouth open--what’s wrong, honey? You want another cock right now? Wish you had one crammed down your throat while I fuck you until you’re crying? Bet you fucking do. Bet you wish someone was here to make you choke and gag on a thick dick while you get your pretty ass reamed.”

He can’t form the words, can’t even think aside from the mantra of “gonna come, wanna come” on repeat in his brain. But he _does_. Wants it so bad his tongue flickers out, slicking over dry lips, teeth sinking into the bottom one in an attempt to stabilize.

“Maybe one day.” Robert hisses into his ear, thrusts becoming uneven, harder and harsher with every movement. “Maybe we’ll invite a few of the guys around. Let us take turns until you’re just a come covered mess, still begging for more. Paint that pretty face of yours white and make you jack off, use our come for lube.”

Joseph welcomes the rush when it comes. Lets it crash into him with a wail of Robert’s name, knees snapping tight to the other man’s ribs, holding him in place. Distantly, he’s aware of Robert slamming inside so hard his hips ache instantly, but it’s on the very edge of his consciousness. Barely noticeable in the hazy, almost dreamlike world he crash lands into post-orgasm.

He drifts for long moments, barely aware of himself, only hearing the rush of blood, the primal pound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Oddly enough, a tickling sensation is what brings him back. Makes him blink open eyes like he’s been blind his whole life. Joseph tips his head, loose on his neck like his muscles have gone to mush, and eyes his stomach.

Robert’s laying off to the side now, shoulders still shaking with shudders every so often, drawing lazy patterns in the come that’s pooled under Joseph’s steadily softening cock.

“I came.” He whispers, throat raw--was he screaming? It feels like he was screaming.

“Untouched, too.” Robert’s no better, but his voice is far more even, and his smile is painfully gentle. “Thought we were too old for that shit.”

“Did you--” Joseph can’t bring himself to ask, tongue slipping out for a split second before a burst of pain has him yanking it back inside his mouth.

His lip...his lip is swollen, marks in the center, dug there by teeth. His or Robert’s? 

Does it even really _matter_?

Robert chuckles, fingers sliding down his stomach, over a hip, between his thighs before there’s a gentle press at his hole. They slide deep too easily, making Joseph wordlessly whine and kick resisting legs against the sheets.

“You’re full of me right now, sweetheart.” Robert drags his fingers back up and Joseph doesn’t think for a second when they’re held up to his mouth.

It’s not a taste he loves, come is always too bitter--especially with Robert’s diet of whiskey and grease--but he laps away every drop regardless. Because this is Robert and because it feels _right_.  
“We are so fucked in the morning,” Robert props his chin on Joseph’s chest, blowing out a breath that makes him shiver.

“You’re gonna...stay?” He still hasn’t caught his breath, but he’s not heaving in gasps anymore, so that’s something at least.

“Not sure I can walk, let alone leave.” 

“Want you to stay.” Joseph flips onto his side with herculean effort, clutching at any part of Robert he can reach with slightly numb fingers.

“Mary’s gonna be pissed if she finds us like this in the morning.”

“I’ll set an alarm.” Joseph knows it’s a lie, he’s not even sure where his phone _is_ right now, nor does he have the energy to actually look for it.

“No, you fucking won’t.” Robert snorts.

“She might take pity...might make us breakfast.”

“Last time she caught us in bed together, she woke us up with a mop bucket full of ice water. Pretty sure she caused permanent shrinkage.”

“Don’t make me get up.” Joseph’s pulling out all the stops now, pouting vaguely upwards and putting a childish whine into his words.

Robert sighs heavily, draping an arm around his shoulders, fingers tapping an idle pattern on his bicep. Joseph knows he’s gotta be craving a cigarette, a shot, something to soften the edge of what they just did. He also knows Robert isn’t gonna get out of bed for anything less than a life-or-death situation for the next six to eight hours.

Well, an angry Mary might make him move. She’s been supportive of their relationship post-divorce, but she’s still Mary. Still teasing on the knife edge of cruel. But that’s just her and it’s so much easier to volley back and forth when Joseph isn’t swarmed with guilt at the very sight of her. 

Words hang on the tip of his tongue, words he’s wanted to say since the first night he stumbled to Robert’s door with divorce papers in his hand. Since the first night Robert barged into his kitchen to tell him Mary was at the bar again. 

He swallows them down. It’s not time yet. Might never be time, given the history between them.

For now? He’s content in Robert’s heartbeat beneath his ear, the good ache that’s settling into his bones, and the knowledge he finally found a small bit of the Margarita Zone he might get to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> The author does not condone the use of spit as the solitary lubrication.


End file.
